


Major Sharp

by pitterpatterpot



Series: The devil and an exorcist walk into a bar... [1]
Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), Lucifer (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitterpatterpot/pseuds/pitterpatterpot
Summary: “I haven’t seen this in eons,” Charlie says, her voice impressed and nostalgic as she takes it in. “Weird message though. ‘I am not a goat’ seems pretty buggered for whoever was advanced enough to leave this here.”“So whoever left this here probably took the ring,” Behrad makes a face at the goat intestines. “You know since I can’t see it and don’t want to go searching through... that.”“Right you are, handsome,” John narrows his eyes. “And considering the message, I think I know exactly who and where we can find them.”“Wait, you don’t think…” Charlie narrows her eyes, then breaks into a manic grin. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”“Excuse me?” Sara raises her brows. “What exactly is going to be fun?”“The devil, luv,” John rubs his hands together, giving a wink. “And LA is always a treat.”or-Re-write of season 5 where they think Lucifer may have taken a piece of the loom. Hello, time-traveling devil and complicated exorcist relationships!
Relationships: John & the legends, John Constantine/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer & charlie
Series: The devil and an exorcist walk into a bar... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877341
Comments: 8
Kudos: 204





	Major Sharp

“Alright everyone, strap in!” Sara raises her hands in the air before dropping into the pilot's seat. “Time to _rock_ the Stone Age!”

“Bloody hell,” John sighs, collapsing into a seat, “do you need to do that every time, luv?”

“That one _was_ a little weak,” Nate winces, nodding along, everyone else mumbling in agreement.

“I thought it was alright,” Ray shrugs, smiling.

“Of course you did, buddy,” Behrad smiles, clapping Ray on the shoulder.

“Well, alright then,” Sara mutters, tapping at the console. “Nate, anything special we should know about the area?”

“Well, this is the Stone Age, so as you can guess just a lot of undeveloped humans on the brink of developing tools and other abilities,” Nate sighs, settling back. “The most we have to watch out for is a couple of natives attacking us out of fear.”

“And since I disguised the loom parts as rings,” Charlie grins, settling into her own chair, “I think it’ll be pretty easy to find among a heap of stones.”

“Most likely scenario is that someone thought it was pretty and picked it up,” Nate shrugs. “Constantine can use magic to track it from there.”

“Right I can, mate,” John grins. “Now, let’s get a wriggle on, eh?”

“Weasel’s right,” Mick grunts, to everyone’s surprise. “I got a sandwich for later with my name on it.”

“You’ll fit right in,” Behrad mutters, earning a glare from the thief and chuckle from Nate.

It’s amazing how it takes five minutes to move hundreds of years in the past. All they see is a couple of flashes before they suddenly… blip, into the sky of an entirely different era, that they’ve never seen before. Suddenly appearing in a star-filled sky that has yet to be touched by mass carbon dioxide or light pollution, everyone taking a moment to observe every smudged layer of colour and collection of stars spread across the sky.

“Don’t see this every day,” Nate sighs, staring up.

“I’ve never seen the constellations so clearly,” Ray says in awe. “And look! Those purple and dark blue streaks? Those are from star formations we haven’t been able to see for thousands of years!”

“I remember when the sky used to always be like this,” Charlie sighs, before standing and slapping her seat. “C’mon then, let’s find that bloody loom.”

They troop off the ship, Constantine plucking a strand of Charlie’s hair and muttering a quick spell, the shifter jerking away in annoyance while he smirks. Soon they’re following a floating ball of light, John needing to slap Behrad’s hand away when he tries to poke at it, the group following the magical essence as it hovers through the temperate forest towards their goal.

“I always loved this time period,” Charlie sighs contently, breathing in a deep breath. “Watching humans get on their feet.”

“You know, I still can’t believe you were alive for all of this,” Nate turns around, gesturing outwards to everything. “Hey, what can you tell me about the ancient Mayans and the creation of the calendar?”

“Nothing. I was partying on an island at the time. Think you lot call it Hawaii now.”

The historian slouches, sighing and shaking his head while Charlie bellows out a laugh.

“Alright,” Sara calms them down. “As funny as it is to know that you danced your way through history-“

“-Like that’s not what you lot do-“

“-We should stay quiet to find the loom,” Sara continues with a pointed look. “Who knows what kind of prehistoric humans we come across. And the last thing we need is for them to take one look at us and suddenly there’s a whole new religion around strange future people.”

“I don’t know, I think I’d make a neat god,” Behrad grins, shrugging.

“I wouldn’t mind teaching science,” Ray perks up. “Think of the possibilities if they managed to harness fire as a power source early-“

“No becoming gods or doing science,” Sara sighs. “Ava will have my head if we start another religion.”

“It was just a couple of hieroglyphics,” Nate drawls, trudging through a bush. “At least they didn’t seal me in the pyramid.”

Constantine jolts to a stop, Mick grunting when Behrad then bumps into him. They all gather around the mouth of a cave, Constantine muttering under his breath as the ball of light in front of him flickers before puttering out.

“Well, that’s not s’posed to happen,” he narrows his eyes, then turns around with a swish of his trench coat. “Alright. Who wants to go in first?”

“Nice try, weasel,” Mick narrows his eyes, gesturing with his gun. “You go. We’ll follow.”

“Y’ see, mate,” John scoffs, his usual smirk stretching out, “I’m not exactly _suited_ for caves. You, however-”

“ _I’ll_ go,” Sara waves them away, shaking her head. “Children.”

“Oh! Here’s a flashlight,” Ray pulls one out of his bag. “You can never be too prepared!”

“Thank you, luv!”John calls after her, his voice ringing through the cave.

Rolling her eyes, Sara turns on the flashlight, her footsteps echoing through the cave in clipped repetition. She narrows her eyes at the dark crevices along the walls, mindful of every corner and position of attack. Water drips from the ceiling, the steady streams adding to the moldy, dewy smell of the atmosphere. A knife slips itself into the palm of her hand, the grip settling comfortably against the callouses of her fingers. She runs her thumb over a groove of the leather, turning her back to the wall to edge along. Something in her gut squirms in distress, her breathing ringing through the air.

And then the goat head stares back at her.

~~~

“Hey, no smoking!” Ray scolds, leaning down to pick up Constantine’s cigarette butt. “You can’t leave stuff like this behind! It’s bad enough that our footprints are everywhere.”

“Alright, keep your pants on,” John huffs, tucking the butt away. “No littering. Got it. Ah, you find anything?”

They all turn to face Sara, the ex-assassin exiting the mouth of the cave. Those eyes of hers are sharp, a look of disbelief and exhaustion slackening her features while her lids narrow in an almost threatening fashion.

“There is,” she draws in a breath, “a dead goat.”

“You think it ate and choked on the loom?” Charlie places her hands on her hips, disgusted and concerned.

“If it did eat it then it doesn’t have it anymore,” Sara swallows, rubbing at her forehead. “It’s spread out, the head on a spike.”

“Maybe some old fashion Stone Age humans just got hungry?” Nate suggests. “The head could just be for territorial purposes. I mean, in case you haven’t noticed us human can get pretty touchy about what’s ours.”

“That’s a good guess,” Sara rolls her shoulders, “but I don’t think anyone knows how to write yet, and there’s a pretty distinct message written with the blood.”

That piques all their interest, everyone filing into the cave. Ray winces at spread out carcass of the goat, the messy murder carefully picked cleaned up to leave disembodied limbs strewn about in an organised fashion.

“That ain’t writing,” Mick grunts, nodding to the stone wall.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, mate,” John sighs, squaring his shoulders and taking in the swirls of blood on the wall. “It’s an ancient language usually used by magical beings.”

“I haven’t seen this in eons,” Charlie says, her voice impressed and nostalgic as she takes it in. “Weird message though. ‘I am not a goat’ seems pretty buggered for whoever was advanced enough to leave this here.”

“So whoever left this here probably took the ring,” Behrad makes a face at the goat intestines. “You know since I can’t see it and don’t want to go searching through... that.”

“Right you are, handsome,” John narrows his eyes. “And considering the message, I think I know exactly who and where we can find them.”

“Wait, you don’t think…” Charlie narrows her eyes, then breaks into a manic grin. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

“Excuse me?” Sara raises her brows. “What exactly is going to be fun?”

“The devil, luv,” John rubs his hands together, giving a wink. “And LA is always a treat.”

~~~

“I’m sorry, he helped start the what in the where?”

Snapping back a drink of whiskey, John glares at Nate, everyone piled into the parlour. “He had nothing to do with the actual fire itself. He was just there for it. He has a habit of popping up at the worst moments in human history. Likes to watch us at our most sinful, but that doesn’t mean the bloody wanker actually causes any of it.”

They marinate in silence, Nate falling back in a chair as everyone stares at John in shock. Charlie just prods at the globe in the corner, fingers tracing the island, seemingly bored with the revelation. Mick sips at his beer, likewise underwhelmed, while Ray stares a certain corner of the wall with no apparent movement. Picking up the tumbler, Sara pours herself a drink, tipping her back to allow it to slide down her throat. Behrad paces by one of the desks, rubbing at his neck.

“The devil is real,” Nate breathes, looking at his clasped hands. “I mean, I know we found the spear and blood of Christ and everything, but-“

“But the devil actually walking around is a whole other thing,” Ray huffs, brows furrowed.

“He used to be on Earth 666!”John crows. “Cliche, I know. But if there were multiple versions of every different kind of deities running around they’d all be killing each other. They tend to just pick which earth’s they like best and stick to them.”

“So… all religions and beliefs exist?” Ray croaks, sitting down.

John ticks his head to the side, fiddling with his lighter. “Ah, well, some hold a firmer presence than others. I wouldn’t be going and joining any modern-day flat-earther cults or the like if I were you.”

“But Ollie eliminated that factor,” Sara realises. “The loom parts are all on one world again because of how he combined all worlds into one - this one. Does that mean that all the gods are together in one world?”

“Most likely,” John collapses in a chair himself. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it, sweetheart. They tend to get along just fine, they spread out more for comfort’s sake than anything.”

“John-o’s right,” Charlie shrugs. “Us gods tend to get along just fine as long as we stay in our own lanes.”

“Right,” Nate closes his eyes. “Because you’re a god.”

“A right old part of the Olympians,” John gives a crooked grin. “What a marvel.”

Stopping in his pacing, Behrad turns back to Constantine. “So you think this devil has the ring?”

“Last time I saw him was in Los Angeles,” John shrugs. “He has a thing against goats, it’s a running joke with his siblings.”

“Then that’s what we need to do,” Behrad shrugs. “Go to LA and find the devil and the loom.”

“Behrad is right, we need to stay on task,” Sara agrees, stepping out of the parlour. “John, you, Nate and I will scope out the general area while everyone else stays behind to watch from here.”

“Sounds great, pet,” John sighs, pulling the chest bracer down as everyone else settles into their seats.

Behind the captain’s chair to the left Raymond nudges Behrad, glancing from John back to him.

“Hey, you don’t really seem freaked out?” Ray mutters. “Are you alright?”

Shrugging, Behrad taps at the arms of his seats. “Yeah man, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because finding out the devil is real when you already have your own faith-“

“Doesn’t change anything,” Behrad cuts him off with a smile. “I have belief in my faith, Ray. That’s the whole point. Besides,” he glances at Charlie, “they can call themselves gods all they want… but they all seem more like powerful meta-humans to me. Just because something isn’t _human_ doesn’t mean it disproves my faith. We’ve seen way too many weird things for that to have an effect.”

“Yeah,” Ray blows out a breath. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, if all it took to be a god was to be powerful and immortal then Vandal Savage would be one!”

For a moment they laugh. Until it tapers off and they share a confused, slightly worried look. Shaking it off they avert their eyes and settle back in their seats, both at once coughing and clearing their throats.

“Maybe not the best example,” Ray mutters.

“No,” Behrad winces, shaking his head.

~~~

Nate is a responsible young man in every sense of the word. Once you give him a task he stays on it with a precision like focus that cannot be shaken in any way. It’s how he spends hours upon hours in a library, only realising that he’s studied through the night when John finally yells at Nate to get out so he can sleep. It’s how he’s survived any kind of fundraiser that his parents usually host. He likes to think, personally, that he gained the skill from his grandfather Henry Heywood. That focus where everything falls away, the pursuit of knowledge the only thing that matters aside from a few key side distractions.

But _damn_ it’s hard to concentrate in Lux.

“Hands down one of the coolest places we’ve ever been,” Nate says, Sara, John, and Charlie pressed against his sides, the club packed. “Are those seriously demons at the bar?”

“The scary lass is,” John casually remarks. “The rest appear human.”

Nate whistles lowly under his breath, then catches Sara’s look. “Oh, come on, if Ava were here right now even she’d admit the demon is hot.”

“Ava is keeping track of everything at the Time Bureau, she’ll going us later,” Sara glares, then ducks her head slightly. “I’m not sure whether she’d go wild and love this place or have a heart attack.”

“Stiff like her would probably die on the spot,” John chuckles, moving past a table with a dancer. “Now we got to-“

At once the light dim, even the dancers settling comfortably as a hazy glow of soft blues and purples overtake the room, the center of light shining on the piano in the center of the lounge. Everyone titters excitedly, plenty of patrons giggling behind their hands, whispering about the ‘performance’ to come. Sharing matching concerned looks, the three time-travelers lean against a railing that offers a view of the lower stage. The hazy glow lightens around the man sitting with his hands splayed over the piano keys, leaning in towards a microphone. Those dark eyes flicker up to take in the crowd.

“Good afternoon, Los Angeles,” he croons, the crowd clapping in reply as his eyes skim over everyone. “Everyone knows that you tend to come to clubs for the music, so tonight-“

His eyes finally reach the Legends, narrowing quickly with a strained smile emerging.

“-I will be leaving you in the hands of our very capable DJ,” he abruptly stands, tugging on the cufflinks of his suit. “As always enjoy the night to the fullest.”

There are a few confused murmurs, the crowd parting around the man as he strides his way towards the group, occasionally smiling and patting the shoulders of patrons. The Legends watch as he drifts closer, his casual demeanor ruined by the stiff position of his shoulders.

“The devil is British?” Nate murmurs.

“Still as hot as ever as well,” Charlie smirks, elbowing the historian. “Though if you ask me Mazikeen is looking as good as always.”

Indeed, the demon is watching them from the bar, nostrils flaring and hands planted down as she stares at them. Sara narrows her own eyes and stares back, assessing the demonic creature. It just smiles slowly, lifting a finger in response.

“Enough of that now,” John nudges her. “As much as I’d like to see who would win between the two of you we didn’t come here for you to destroy the place.”

“I certainly hope not! Where else would these poor people go to party?”

Lucifer Morningstar smiles at them, irritation pulling every part of his tight as he nods towards them. John shoves his hands in his pocket, offering his signature smirk as Charlie grins and Nate leans back, Sara shifting into a defensive position.

“John Constan- _tine,_ ” Lucifer emphasises, running a hand down the front of his ensemble to banish any wrinkles. “And here I was thinking you were- _Clotho?”_

“Hey, Luci!” Charlie laughs, moving forward and accepting the devil’s hug.

Everyone blinks in surprise. Nate shoots John a confused look, him simply shaking his head, gaze flicking between the devil and the shifter. Sara leans back and crosses her arms, sighing deeply.

“Darling, look at you!” Lucifer says in delight, laughing, placing his hands on her shoulders to take her in. “I haven’t seen you in centuries!”

“Got thrown into Hell, I did,” Charlie shrugs, hands in her pockets.

“Hell?” Lucifer frowns, seemingly scandalised. “How could I have not known about this?”

“Ah, I wasn’t being tortured or anything, just running around the city parts,” Charlie smirks. “Don’t worry, I didn’t have a door or anything. I steered clear of the punishment areas.”

“Well, good,” Lucifer beams, patting her shoulder. “There are so few as rebellious as you. Would you care for a drink?”

“Actually,” John pushes in, nudging himself forward as he looks at Lucifer, “we need something.”

Amusement flickers in those dark eyes, looking back into John’s similar gaze. “Last time I checked you cashed in your favour to retrieve a mister Oliver Queen’s soul. From purgatory.”

Sara stiffens, something close to pain flashing across her face before it closes off again. Lucifer notices, his gaze immediately catching on her and a charming smile taking place, his taller frame leaning away from John and Charlie so he leans against the rail by Sara’s side.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Lucifer holds out a hand. “Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Sara Lance,” Sara nods, voice steady and even. “And trust me, you’d remember if we ever did.”

“Well!” Lucifer beams, appraising her. “Aren’t you a delightful little soul? Tell me, what is it that you-“

“Alright, enough,” John hisses, placing an arm between him and Sara. “None of your old tricks, Luci. We came for an artifact.”

“Like I said,” Lucifer near growls, leaning in closer, “you used your favour-“

“Luci, it’s for the loom,” Charlie grabs his arm, turning him to face her. “All the pieces are in the same world again and we need to find them. We think you may have one of the pieces.”

Brows flicking up, Lucifer shakes his head. “Trust me, dear, if I had a piece of the loom I would know about it.”

“The last place the piece was at had a slaughtered goat carcass and the message ‘I am not a goat’ painted on the walls,” Nate awkwardly interjects, clearing his throat once the devil turns to him. “Sir, Lord, I mean- look, we were just wondering if it was you."

No one misses the way Lucifer runs an admiring gaze over Nate, Sara raising her brows as Charlie smothers a grin and John rolls his eyes. Nate however simply blinks in confusion, angling himself way from the intense gaze and swallowing thickly. Sighing in frustration, the devil gestures a hand towards the roof of the club.

“We may as well go upstairs to the penthouse,” Lucifer admits, sighing. “If it’s anywhere it would be there. But if it’s not then you may be asking the wrong person.”

“I highly doubt that, mate,” John murmurs, eyeing the elevator. “But we’ll see.”

They all try to ignore the sweltering awkwardness when they enter the elevator. Lucifer holds the doors open and smiles at all of them as he glides out of the elevator towards the bar with a glass seemingly appearing in hand.

“You mind if I look around?” Charlie leans against the bar. “I should be drawn to it if it’s here.”

“By all means,” Lucifer salutes with his glass, sighing before tipping the beverage back to drink.

Nate and Sara hang around by the couches, leaning closely together to murmur as John briskly makes his way behind the bar and picks a bottle. Lucifer’s brows shoot up at this, his tall frame moving to the side as John briskly picks out a glass and fixes himself a drink. The two Legends watch them from where they stand, confused at the way that Lucifer closely examines John, the exorcist blatantly ignoring the devil and moving around with a familiarity that speaks volumes.

“How do they know each other?” Nate asks Sara, voice a hushed whisper.

“I don’t know,” Sara replies slowly. “Let’s go help Charlie.”

They quickly follow Charlie towards the dresser near the bed, shifting through the multiple pieces of jewelry and bits of metal strewn around. It leaves John and Lucifer by the bar, the two of them holding their drinks in hand and stewing in silence.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you again in all honestly,” Lucifer clears his throat, going to grab the bottle of whiskey for a refill. “Figured a man of your reputation would steer clear of me now that I no longer owe you a favour.”

“Yeah, well,” John admires his glass, “don’t have much of a choice when searching for an ancient loom.”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” Lucifer sighs. “What _have_ you been doing, John? I’ve been hearing rumours about your exploits in Hell yet no one has seen you anywhere.”

“I’ve been on a time-ship,” John pops the ‘p,’ gesturing with his glass to the others. “Jumping around fighting released hellions. Pissing off the triumvirate and the like.”

“So I’ve heard,” Lucifer murmurs. “They’ve had quite a bit of fun since I’ve been gone.”

John catches his gaze. “Luci-“

“I’m not going back, John,” Lucifer insists, hissing. “I didn’t deserve to be there for as long as I was.”

John takes in the fallen angel’s face, dark eyes uncharacteristically soft. “You didn’t, did you, luv?”

Something cracks in Lucifer’s face before he turns away, downing his drink. They mill around the bar, eventually leaving its comfort to head towards the couches. Lucifer sits with grace, gently tugging at the hem of his pants as he folds one leg over the other to avoid a crease. John in comparison collapses on the other end, uncaring as his coat crinkles all around him, sinking into the softness of the upholstery. He closes his eyes for a moment, listening to the shuffle and tell-tale clink of Lucifer pulling out a lighter to light a smoke. The need for one burning in the back of John’s throat. But the memory of cancer, of the phlegm and blood and skin that was once there, itches more. He breathes in the smell of Lucifer’s smoke and cologne, tipping his head back against the couch.

Lucifer watches as the exorcist's chest slowly rises and falls, features gone slack. Lucifer’s wings, newly regrown, itch on his back and he can’t help but think for a single moment that perhaps he should call the detective. Let her know that old magical flames are back in the city and interrogating him for ancient artifacts. Of course, she would dismiss it as another metaphor, but at the very least she would be up to date.

“Oi, Luci!” Charlie stomps down from the bedroom, appearing frazzled. “I can’t find the damn thing. Do you keep jewelry anywhere else?”

“Afraid not, darling,” Lucifer smiles, smoke curling from his lips and out the open balcony doors. “You said I gained the ring during the Stone Age. It’s quite possible I dropped it somewhere during one of my last trips to earth. I tend to be quite charitable when it comes to humans.”

“If by ‘charitable’ you mean giving away pretty little things for favours, then yes,” Sara stalks out the bedroom, Nate following closely behind. “Can you think of the last time you may have had it?"

“Not quite sure,” Lucifer stands, idling towards the bar. “Now, Clotho, what do you say to that drink and perhaps a bit of dancing?”

“Damn it, Lucifer!” Charlie stomps forward, looking at him imploringly. “This isn’t a joke! I need your help on this, mate.”

It takes a moment, then Lucifer sighs, placing his glass back down. “Oh, alright. Check France. I handed wealth out like candy at the end of the revolution.”

“So we just need to search all of France after one of the bloodiest moments in human history?” Nate blows out a breath, rubbing at his neck. “That would be-“

“Impossible,” Sara finishes for him. “We need more than a country and time period.”

Huffing out a breath of annoyance, Lucifer looks at them all. “What, do you want me to come with you and retrace my steps with the damn thing?”

Pausing, they all look at him, eyes wide and bright in recognition. Lucifer frowns, refraining from taking a step back.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Sara muses, a smile taking place. “What better way to find something that you’ve lost than by retracing your steps?”

Lucifer’s frown deepens as he places down his glass.

“That’s a good idea,” Nate snaps his fingers, perking up. “We go back to France right after the revolution and after you’ve left so you don’t run into your past self - assuming you have a past self on this world or not since our worlds were combined and that means your past self may have existed in another existence-“

“- _Excuse me?_ -“

“-but either way it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Nate claps his hands.

“And Luci can help me track down the ring and we can stop any encores that show up along the way,” Charlie decides, grinning.

“-Well, now, I’d just-“

“Then it’s settled,” Sara says with finality. 'Lucifer comes with us as a guide to help search for the loom and-“

_“Excuse me!”_ Lucifer hisses, raised in intensity. “I have yet to agree to _any_ of this. As for all the talk about alternative time me’s, I don’t care. But I don’t exactly fancy the idea of going back to such a dreary time in human history! You have phones now! And Burberry!”

“Come on, Luci,” Charlie begs, biting her lip. “You know Mazikeen can take care of things here! And we’ll drop you back exactly where and when we left!”

“Besides, you lost the loom in the first place,” Sara pins him with a look. “This would be a quick in and out to help a friend.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Lucifer points to Charlie. “If I was to do this - I said was! - you would owe me a favour. And a meal.”

“Yes!” Charlie pumps her hands into the air before clapping. “Thank you, Luci! Man, you are gonna love the ship. The things humans have now are insane.”

“I’m quite aware,” Lucifer stalks to his bedroom. “I’m going to back a bag. Someone wake the exorcist on the couch.”

“Wake the- oh,” Nate twists and turns to see where John is sleeping. “How did he not wake up?”

“He’s tired, like the rest of us,” Sara presses her finger against her comm. “Guys, did you get all that?”

“The devil’s coming over for dinner,” Raymond’s voice buzzes over. “Got it.”

“Should I be worried that no one sounds surprised?” Sara runs a hand through her hair.

“Yeah, well,” Nate holds the elevator open, John shuffling over, “we’ve dealt with weirder.”

~~~

“So you got caught up in the second-rate version of Amenadiel, I heard?” Lucifer hums to John as they mill in the ship's entrance, John pulling Lucifer aside for a moment to prepare him for the confusing nature of the ship.

John flicks his eyes up to look at the angel, sitting on a crate. “If you mean did I meet the angel Manny who your father based off him, then yes, I did. How many little messenger angels does your father have out there representing the archangels anyway?”

“Too many to count, I’m afraid,” Lucifer huffs, eyeing the door. “Now may I see this ship or are you afraid I’ll lose my marbles as you did in Ravenscar?”

He waits for a response, expecting a witty reply to be shot back with no hesitation. Instead, he looks back to find John with a clenched jaw and surprisingly absent eyes. Without a word the exorcist stands, face devoid of amusement and colour, as he marches out the entrance bay. Started, Lucifer calls out after him, gaining the attention of Ray who walks around the corner and immediately smiles, welcoming the devil onto the ship. With an appreciative look, Lucifer only takes a second to wonder where the troublesome brit may have run off to before following the scientist.

It doesn’t take too long to work out where John is if the yelling from the bridge is any indication.

“ _No_. Not a _bloody chance in hell_ if you think-“

“The library is-“

“Where _I’m_ staying-“

“No one wants to give up their bed or has the room-“

“Neither do I!”

“Move your trunk and we can add another bed!”

“Now, you look here-“

Lucifer raises a brow at John and Sara standing off on opposite sides of the main console, each of them glaring at the other with a deep and unrelenting stubbornness. The two blondes immediately snap their heads to look at Lucifer and Ray when they enter, the poor inventor taking a step back and Lucifer smiling in absolute delight at the scene.

“We have no free rooms left on the Waverider,” Sara declares, hands on her hips as she takes in both Lucifer and John. “If we move some stuff in the library you should be able to sleep on a cot in there."

“Uh, Sara,” Ray swallows thickly. “We already… visited the library.”

“And I did a bit of redecorating dear so no need for a fuss,” Lucifer waves a hand, chuckling goodheartedly. “Thank you for the thought, however.”

They can practically see John’s hackles rising, his shoulders shifting as he stiffly turns to look at Lucifer. “Redecorating?”

“I moved my bed in,” Lucifer agrees, patting Ray’s shoulder. “Along with a few items of clothing. This lovely sir here was a complete lamb and helped.”

“Oh,” Ray beams, looking chuffed. “Well, then, I’m a lamb.”

“You moved your bed,” John says, voice devastatingly soft as a muscle in his jaw twitches, “into the library?”

“Yes, I simply moved all your things to one side!” Lucifer shows his teeth, his smile more menacing now than anything. “And this lovely lad here just shrank my bed down to size then added it to the library and fixed it again. Amazing, how far technology has come. Now, where’s the kitchen? You’ve all been such wonderful hosts I simply must cook dinner for you all.”

“Oh,” Sara’s brows shoot up in surprise, and she turns to give John an ‘I told you so’ look. “Thank you, Lucifer. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new recruit do something like that.”

They all jump at the loud slam of John crashing his fist down on the console before storming off. Sara jerks back, concern taking over her and Ray as Lucifer simply chuckles.

“I’m sure dear John will be alright,” Lucifer smiles, gesturing to the hallway. “Now, let’s see what I can rustle up.”

~~~

“The demon can stay,” Mick grunts, shoveling a bite of steak into his mouth.

“Yes, well,” Lucifer hangs back from the table, eyeing the grease running down the thief’s chin, “thank you for the sentiment, but it’s actually the devil.”

“Whatever.”

“You’re quite a repulsive creature, aren’t you?” Lucifer murmurs, moving away to sit at the other end of the table.

“Hey, where’s John?” Nate realises, his fork heavy with a herbed and baked potato. “He’d love this-“

“Weasel can stay in his room,” Mick decides, glaring up. “I like this brit better.”

“At least there are some brains in there,” Lucifer sighs, laying a napkin over his lap and rubbing his hands together. “Now, Doctor Palmer, everything over there is gluten-free for you.”

“Wow,” Ray huffs out, taking in the dishes before nodding his head to the side with a wince. “When I told John that I don’t eat gluten he just laughed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Lucifer says sympathetically, nodding. “Well don’t you all worry, the devil is here now to take good care of you.”

Charlie raises a brow at Lucifer. The angel simply smiles back.

“Well thank you, Lucifer, this is a wonderful dinner,” Sara says, blinking and picking up her fork. “And there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

“But you’re not the real devil, right?” Ava asks, who had come in for dinner, laughing as she addresses Lucifer. “You’re just a mage like John with a stage name, right?”

“Oh no, darling!” Lucifer laughs, picking up his own glass of wine. “Previous angel of Heaven and ruler of Hell right here. Really, though, you humans have come so far in the past few centuries. And now a time ship! I’m quite impressed.”

Ava chokes on her drink, sending Sara an alarmed look. The ex-assassin simply places a hand on her arm, gently shushing her and promising explanations later. Behrad nods, chuckling to himself before turning to Lucifer.

“So, is it hot or cold down there?” Behrad questions, prompting a smile.

“Well now,” Lucifer breathes, taking in Behrad with a delighted stare. “Aren’t you a curious one? I suppose it depends on where you are.”

“So Hell has geographical features?” Nate asks, waving his fork around. “Like, suburbs or areas?”

“Not in the sense that this world does,” Lucifer picks at his own food, evenly sprinkling salt over his meal. “The laws of physics and reality are much looser there than normal. John tends to go to the part of Hell that represents a city. That’s where the more powerful souls and demons reside. Then there are the doorways, that lead into personal Hell loops, the fields, the area- really, it depends on what plane you manifest in.”

“So there aren’t seven circles of Hell?” Ray has a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Well now, after Dante came up with some theories many personal perceptions of Hell did change,” Lucifer hums conversationally. “I suppose you could say it depends more on- could you pass the balsamic vinegar, darling? Thank you - the focus of the charge. It has never really been a fixed concept.”

“Interesting,” Sara leans back in her chair, glancing at Charlie. “And how do you two know each other?”

“Well!” Charlie grins, clapping the devil on the shoulder. “After I broke the loom and was on the run I’d search for the most chaotic, fun parties I could to get lost in a crowd. I stumbled onto Earth 666 one day and who throws better parties than the devil?”

“And imagine my delight when a fellow believer of free will showed up?” Lucifer pats Charlie’s shoulder back. “Who better to mesh with the rebel of Heaven than the breaker of the loom?”

“Makes sense, two chaotic entities coming together,” Ava picks up her wine, clearing her throat. “Not a big deal, or anything.”

“Aw, lighten up!” Charlie grins. “For what it’s worth, we had a hell of a time.”

“No pun intended!” Lucifer points out, breaking them both into laughs.

“Well, it’s lovely to have you on the ship, Lucifer,” Ray smiles. “Any friend of Charlie and John is a friend of ours. And I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Yes,” Lucifer smiles, his version tighter. “I’m sure.”

~~~

The bed takes up half the library. A small table and armchairs had been moved to make accommodations, John’s stuff moved just like Lucifer had said. The corner of the bed comes up to the desk, books were strewn across the surface that had been shuffled to make room for the monstrosity of silk sheets and satin pillows. If he wasn’t already so charmed Nate would have a cardiac arrest if he saw how ‘his domain’ was being treated. The real gut-puncher, however, is how the couch John usually sleeps on is pushed up against a wall of books with all his stuff surrounding it. If there’s one thing John has never been comfortable with it’s feeling as though he’s being caged in.

So he gains retribution by collapsing on the disgusting bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off as he shuffles to lie diagonally across the horrifically soft sheets and yanking a dastardly plump pillow under his head. He can already imagine the look on the devil’s face when he walks in expecting his perfectly made bed only to find the rumpled exorcist taking up all the space and disrupting the picture-perfect layout that was so carefully put together. John closes his eyes, prepared to wait for just a moment to see how the devil will react.

It’s not as though he has his soul to lose.

~~~

The devil pauses. Takes in the scene of the homeless-looking exorcist splayed across his bed, deep grooves and dark smudges carefully splattered across his face. Shrugging off his blazer and unbuttoning his vest, Lucifer places the two items delicately over a chair before walking over to the bed. He leans down to look closer at John’s face, frowning at the pale complexion and utter exhaustion he finds. Then he scowls at the sight of shoes on the sheets, immediately moving to remove them.

“How tired are you, Johnny?” Lucifer murmurs as he slides off one shoe. “Not even a wriggle and here I am, undressing you.”

He receives no reply, prompting the strange feeling of sludge to intensify in his stomach despite the lovely meal he had just eaten. It’s safe to say that he’s besotted everyone in the crew, never mind how suspicious the captain and her girlfriend still are. Even the man who may have been a caveman, Mick Rory, seems to tolerate his presence, just as Lucifer planned. Nothing would irritate John Constantine more to see his comrades charmed by the very devil that infuriates him to no end.

The very devil who is now removing his shoes. Lucifer pauses in his actions, eyeing his own hands and John’s shoe-less feet in confusion. A troubled look comes over him, Lucifer moving to gaze at John in confusion before placing the shoes down, unbuttoning his own dress shirt and removing his pants to slip into his monogrammed sleepwear. Really, humans have come so far in terms of basic comfort. Yet the rumbled and indelicate man sprawled on his bed is no proof of that.

“You don’t have a single item of clothing besides that damn trench coat and shirt, do you?” Lucifer huffs, exasperated, as he looks around the room. “So much progress and you enjoy none of it.”

Decidedly, he prompts the mage to role onto his back, swiftly and with little fuss removing his shirt and pants. He looks at his own sleepwear, already put out by the great sacrifice he has to make.

“Dammit, John,” Lucifer murmurs, wrestling a deep blue set of sleepwear onto the mage. “These are a luxury item. How asleep can you possibly be?”

But there’s still no answer, Constantine instead mumbling and pressing his face further into the pillow he’s snagged for himself. Huffing in frustration, Lucifer steps back from the bed once he’s finished wrapping the annoyance by his side into his custom pajamas. Not that he would ever appreciate it, mind you. Not that Lucifer is doing it to be appreciated.

With a sigh of defeat, Lucifer collapses on the bed and wrestles the sheets out from under John, hauling them over both their forms and rolling onto his side to gain some much-needed sleep.

~~~

“ _What the-_ “

No one is saying that John Constantine hasn’t woken up in strange positions. There was that time in the pub, the one with a witch, that other time in that other pub, more ditches than he can count and on one rare occasion the lion’s enclosure of a zoo.

But waking up cocooned in angel wings?

That’s new.

It’s not that he’s uncomfortable. Far from it. The soft white plumage strokes his skin in silky patterns through the pajamas that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe all through his life ever has. He’s lying on one, it tucked nicely underneath him like a celestial warming pad that soothes all the aches and tension from his body that’s been plaguing him since who-knows-when. The other is folded softly over him, the brilliance of the white feathers surprisingly soft on the eyes as covers him completely, leaving him in a cocoon of warmth separate from the rest of the room and world.

And Lucifer, lying right next to him and facing him, his arms tucked up in the small amount of space between them, his body bowed towards John as his wings cover them. The exorcist tenses as the two massive appendages ruffle, the feathers fluffing for a moment before settling down once again. Archangel wings are different from those of lower angels. Manny’s wings always appeared sharp, the feathers longer and sparser. Imogen’s had been smaller, the feathers like thin silk or mesh that glowed in the light. And once they turned black, once they discovered she was fallen, they appeared more like sharp slates of dark glass layered over one another. Breakable and dangerous. Lucifer’s wings in comparison, along with Amenadiel’s, are gifted with a thick and soft plumage that offers attack, defense, and flight. As well as comfort, if used right. Larger in size and, if the warm magic practically humming from them is any indication, power too.

Instead of trying to escape the angelic embrace, John takes in the face in front of him. The jawline and dark curls ruffled from sleep, the slight shadow of stubble spanning across his lower face before reaching his defined cheekbones.

Of course, the devil would have such a charming form. It’s almost unfair that he’s still able to keep so much angelic beauty when he’s supposed to be the greatest sinner of all.

Not that Luci is ever that bad.

The wings rustle around him once again and this time John reaches a hand up to smooth the feathers of the one he’s lying on top, the second wing canvasing over him quivering in response. At that the devil’s dark eyes slide open, taking in his wings protective positions around John and the exorcist's hand halting in carding through his feathers.

“Well,” Lucifer says, voice husky with sleep, “I suppose this isn’t the most compromising situation either of us has woken to.”

A snort slips out before John can stop it, his curiosity bubbling up. “The last time I saw you, your wings were gone.”

“Well, they came back,” Lucifer answers, closing his eyes. “The scars are gone, too.”

“If it uncomfortable to have one under me?” John quizzes, resisting the urge to sink his hand back in the soft plumage.

“You’re surprisingly light, so no,” Lucifer rolls his shoulder, causing the wings to pull back. “Aside from feeling warmer than usual, they’re fine.”

Huffing, John rolls to the side as the wing pulls out from under him, the other pulling back from covering him. As Lucifer sits up and pulls his wings behind him the edge of one knocks a lamp from a table. Looking over at the clattering sound, Lucifer releases a growl of annoyance.

“Can’t move with these bloody things!” Lucifer snarls, stomping over to pick up the lamp. “Every time I cut them off they just keep growing right back again-“

“What?”

“I mean honestly it’s just a…” Lucifer trails off as he spins back around, taking in John’s shaky expression. “What? Oh, is it the sleepwear? Yes, I know you’re more used to resting like a heathen, but I thought-“

“You cut your wings off again?” John croaks out, hands fisting the sheets. “How many times have you done that?”

“Enough to know that Dad is more stubborn than I thought,” Lucifer scowls. “Really, John, once you do it once the other times are much easier. Not to mention cleanup, there are so many ways to dispose of wings in LA-“

But the exorcist pushes past him, snatching up his clothes on the way out. The devil blinks, looking at the door as it closes before turning back to the bed, taking in the imprint on the mattress. He ignores the lingering warmth on his wings as well.

~~~

“Alright!” Sara waves to everyone as the Waverider settles. “This is France in 1789, just after the official end of the French Revolution. According to Lucifer, he was here partying for the first-ever Bastille Day. That was yesterday. If we retrace his steps we might find the loom piece.”

“Oh, it was fantastic,” Lucifer pipes in with enthusiasm. “Really, you humans always find a way to make the most gruesome of events enjoyable.”

“And remember, this is the first-ever Bastille Day after the revolution,” Nate chimes in grimly, gesturing to the screens. “The Reign of Terror wasn’t too long ago and there’s still a lot of suffering and after-effects. This is one of the first happy moments a long time these people will be experiencing.”

“So no screwing it up for them,” Ava follows up, her hair braided back and in a simple lace dress. “Remember, don’t dress too fancy. This time was the embodiment of the whole ‘eat the rich’ saying.”

“Got it, luv,” John tugs on his sleeves. “These dreary suits and dresses it is.”

“Come now, it’s not so bad!” Lucifer holds an arm out to Charlie. “You and I can enjoy an epic historical celebration together.”

“I’d enjoy nothing more,” Charlie loops her arm through his, a similar grin in place.

Sara eyes the way that John watches Lucifer and Charlie leave the ship with Behrad, Mick, and Nate. Ray, John, Ava, and Sara all leave to scope out one of the two pubs Lucifer claimed to be drinking at when he handed out numerous riches. Pushing through the bustling crowd is as difficult as always no matter the time periods. The cries of the people and intense movements do nothing to help matters, the four of them finally managing to press their way into a bar, Sara strategically angling herself to face John as Ray and Ava order drinks.

“So,” Sara smiles.

John eyes her with suspicion. “Yes?”

“You and the devil.”

At once John jerks back, shaking his head as he accepts a drink. Sara follows him, her blue-eyed gaze completely unrelenting and amused.

“I saw you in some pretty fancy PJ’s this morning,” she teases, her voice humming. “Any explanation for that?”

“I didn’t have any myself and I guess he didn’t want to see me sleeping naked,” John throws back a condescending smirk that quickly turns into a frown.

“Alright,” Sara shrugs, her tone too light to be taken seriously. “Just thought it would explain why you two haven’t taken your eyes off each other since this whole thing started.”

“We have _not_.”

“How do you two even know each other?” Sara inquires. “I know the dark arts is your whole thing, but the devil himself?”

“Needed some help with bringing his right-hand demon up to the surface to guard him,” John stares into his drink. “Mazikeen. I actually like her. We ended up getting along fine.”

“Of course you did,” Sara chuckles. “You and a demon. And you’re sure there’s nothing there with Lucifer?”

It takes but a few seconds for John to down his entire drink before answering. “Even if there was, it isn’t meant for me.”

Across the city a similar conversation takes place, Mick nursing his alcohol while Nate awkwardly endures the conversation, gaze flickering between Charlie and Lucifer. Behrad is fighting down a smile at the entire interaction, sipping at his own drink as Nate sends him panicked glances. Their bar is slightly less packed than it was an hour ago, the five of them manage to fit onto a table comfortably with little hustle.

“C’mon, Luci,” Charlie groans, collapsing back in her seat. “I’m not blind. Just tell me if you two have fucked yet.”

“No, for your information, we have not!” Lucifer answers, sounding scandalised. “Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on sensing some ring?”

“Trust me mate, if it were in here I’d know it,” Charlie snorts. “But seriously. What’s going on with you and Johnny?”

“Maybe I should get us some more drinks,” Nate clears his throat, wide-eyed. “Mick and I probably shouldn’t be here for this.”

“Nonsense, you two have known John longer than me!” Charlie insists. “Mick. Do you think Lucifer is John’s type?”

The thief grunts, causing Charlie to nod as though she’s deciphering a deeper code.

“That means yes,” Charlie supplies. “And Nate, you have to admit the two of them would look good together.”

Cocking his head to the side, the historian does nod. “Yeah, I can see that. Behrad?”

“The devil and an exorcist,” Behrad hums, nodding in thought. “It’d make an interesting story.”

“Oh, for the love of-“ Lucifer looks at them, sighing and slapping his hands down on his legs before standing. “None of us are near intoxicated enough for this conversation. Clotho, dear, what would you like?”

“The strongest scotch they’ve got, mate.”

“Of course.”

They watch as the devil sunders towards the bar, holding out an arm to grab the attention of the server. Mick, Charlie, Behrad, and Nate all immediately lean in towards each other, their emotions ranging from uncaring and uncomfortable to mischievous.

“Alright,” Charlie grins, rubbing her hands together. “There’s definitely something bouncing between Luci and Johnny.”

“Maybe we should just stay out of it,” Nate winces. “I don’t think the time bros would be the best wingmen between the devil and John.”

“What? No way!” Behrad pulls back, scoffing. “Think about all the opportunities we have! We live on a freaking time ship. One-stop to Venice, Italy, in the romantic age before pollution and they’ll be set.”

“ _Yes!_ ” Charlie hisses, pointing to Behrad, beaming a wide smile. “Or here! Tell them they need to get something from the catacombs.”

She and Behrad share a high-five, reaching across the table to slap their palms together. It gains them an odd look from the rest of the patrons, Nate shaking his head in exasperation before roughly setting his drink down. Mick watches it all, chewing on his bread as he remains passive in the conversation. They all settle down once Lucifer weaves his way back to the table, his tall frame easily noticeable. He settles a drink in front of Charlie, a wine glass in his own hand.

“Now,” Lucifer settles back down in the seat, “do you sense anything yet?”

“No,” Charlie huffs, brows knitted. “If the ring was even anywhere near here I’d sense it.”

“Maybe it’s just not here,” Behrad suggests. “I mean, think about it. The only lead we have to go off is that Lucifer gave away a heap of jewelry. He might have not even given the ring away.”

“Perhaps not,” Lucifer taps his fingers rhythmically on his glass. “There are only a few times through history that I gave away precious items.”

“Well, what other time periods are there?” Charlie leans forward.

“Let’s see,” Lucifer puffs out a breath. “Besides here, the beginning of World War Two, the nineteen-twenties in America, the nineteen-eighties in the same place, medieval times, of course, they always loved a little bit of dropped gold then-“

“Great,” Nate sits back, raising his hands. “Just multiple time periods. Not like that’s going to take forever.”

“Well, Luci,” Charlie grins, “looks like you’re staying for a while.”

~~~

“Next stop is medieval England!” Sara announces. “We’ll start at the latest dates and then work our way up. We depart tomorrow.”

“Oh, lovely,” Lucifer chuckles. “Trust me, you’ll want to avoid the eighties for as long as possible. Looking back it was all simply ghastly.”

“So 1356 is our next destination,” Ava swipes at the screen of her device. “Just after the phase of the Black Death. You have anything to do with that?”

The last part is said with a look in Lucifer’s direction, everyone moving to eye the devil themselves, aside from Charlie and John who simply sigh and turn away.

“No, as a matter of fact,” Lucifer says pointedly. “Believe it or not but I have no interest in spreading diseases through rats. I’m more interested in dealing with people once they die, and trust me when I say that massive influxes of souls into Hell is _not_ a fun issue to deal with.”

“Luci doesn’t cause the disasters,” John speaks up, drawing everyone’s attention. “You can thank other gods and scientific whatnots for that. He doesn’t tend to meddle when he’s in Hell. And when he does come to the sunny-side the most he does is offer people choices. It’s not his fault if they choose a darker path.”

A moment of silence settles over them all, Lucifer gazing at John quizzically in question as he mauls over the words just said.

“You wouldn’t happen to have some mystical item to help track down the pieces, would you?” Sara sighs, facing John. “It’d help narrow down the search.”

“Afraid not,” John gives a grim smile. “If I did I would have tracked down the loom pieces myself years ago.”

“Yes, quite a lot of regrets to clean up,” Lucifer sighs, picking a piece of lint from his sleeve. “Onto another mat-“

_“Don’t you talk to me about regrets.”_

The slam of John’s hands against the console sends a small wave of animosity through the room, everyone snapping to turn to the sound. Shoulders rising with each breath John keeps his dark eyes focused on Lucifer, lips tightly sealed together and jaw clenched as his fingers curl into fists. Nate takes a step back from the mage, sending a panicked glance to Sara who simply gives a small shake of her head in return. With a concerned look, Charlie approaches John, raising a hand to rest on his shoulder.

“Easy, John,” Charlie murmurs softly, glancing over at Lucifer. “It was just a joke.”

“Not a very funny one,” John grounds out, pushing back and heading to the exit. “I’m heading out for a breather. Leave without me for all I care.”

“We really shouldn’t leave him,” Ray interjects once John has stridden away, the inventor awkwardly piping up. “Post-Revolution France doesn’t really suit him.”

“Ray’s right,” Behrad starts backing towards the door, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go find him before he convinces someone to bust back out the guillotine.”

Once he leaves, the others begin to awkwardly disperse, Ava and Sara leaving the room in hushed tones as Mick settles in the parlour to watch a game, Nate heading off to the lab with Ray and Charlie immediately making her way towards a confused Lucifer.

“What was that?” Charlie demands. “You trying to piss him off?”

“Calm down,” Lucifer says in a lilting tone, a smile appearing. “We tease. It’s what we do.”

“Yeah, well,” Charlie holds her arms out, walking back. “Looks like he doesn’t want to do it anymore.”

“I must agree.”

Startling, Lucifer stares at Gideon’s holographic head before a genuine smile takes place. “Well, hello! And here I was thinking you were just this ships version of Siri!”

“That is quite like comparing apples to oranges, Mr. Morningstar,” Gideon replies, her head turning to follow him as he paces around her. “I am a much superior program.”

“That you are,” Lucifer marvels, reaching out to pass his hand through the hologram.

  
  
“It’s quite rude to touch a woman without her permission.”

Pulling hand back Lucifer offers a wounded expression. “Right you certainly are! Gideon, I’m dreadfully sorry to have forgotten my manners.”

He gains no reply, Gideon simply watching him as he examines where the projection flows from. It takes another few minutes but Lucifer finally manages to break away from his fascination to move back a step, entirely chuffed with the entire contraption.

“If that is all, Mr. Morningstar, I shall take my leave,” Gideon decides. “And I am afraid I do not permit smoking within my boundaries, so you may wish to participate in its activities outside before we take off.”

“Ah, no need,” Lucifer chuckles, gesturing to the parlour. “As long as one vice is appeased I can go without a smoke. And Johnny has plenty of pretty bottles within the library.”

“I’m sure he does,” Gideon replies. “And please, try to keep the feathers out of the vents.”

With that she flicks off, leaving a stumped Lucifer staring at where her head once was.

“Well,” he pulls back, voice slightly aghast before he turns to call out to Mick, “does she watch everything that goes on in this bloody ship?”

He receives a raised beer glass in return, the pyromaniac not even deeming to spin the chair around. With a huff Lucifer takes his leave, heading for the kitchen. Now that the excitement of time travel has died down it’s really quite boring to be stuck on a large metal ship with little to do. Quite a far cry from partying for days in Lux and finding criminals on the streets of LA. Also Amenadiel. And Linda. Not to mention Maze and the Detective and the urchin. Really, it’s surprising how many individuals with boring lives he has become attached to. Such mundane routines and yet he wishes to contact them so he may know what those routines contain.

Strange.

But then again, Constantine does have plenty of fun little toys in his room, as well as magical artifacts Lucifer hasn’t seen in quite some time. With a new purpose, he strides his way towards the library, delighted when the door automatically opens for him and he’s able to pop a chest right open.

The first thing that stands out is the scroll tightly bound in copper wire. Strange, considering such a weak metal wouldn’t do much to contain whatever demon may be contained. Unless of course, it’s simply a scripted spell or an artifact that needs to be held together by some outside source. And copper is a natural conductor, suggesting as easy flow of magic to and from the scroll. Obviously something quite precious.

Lucifer throws it over his shoulder, digging deeper in the chest. He’s waist high in little trinkets ranging from demon necklaces to the nails of priest coffins by the time he reaches the bottom of the containment, huffing in irritation as he pulls out the only known copy of the original Grimoire in existence.

“I looked everywhere for this,” Lucifer flicks through the pages. “The bastard must have stolen it from the insect that stole it from me.”

“Someone stole from you and lived?”

Lucifer hums, neglecting to look up at John as he shrugs off his trench coat and throws it to the side, loosening his tie as he does. It takes the blond a moment to stomp over to the narrow couch, pushing aside multiple little items and wincing when only one nail pricks his side. Much like with the bed he brings his shoes up onto the surface, absolutely no regard being held for the state of his clothing or filth clinging to him. Never mind the smell of smoke already wafting from his very being.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lucifer strokes the books cover. “Maze carved them up quite lovingly.The book way, however, mysteriously gone. Couldn’t be found or tracked anywhere.”

“I placed a pretty thick cloaking spell over the thing,” John watches closely. “You gonna take it back?”

Without giving an answer Lucifer allows the book to fall from his hands and onto a low table. Swiftly he stands, fixing at his suit as he eyes John back. They watch each other as Lucifer slowly makes his way towards the bed, sitting decisively on the edge.

“You seem quite tense with me today, Johnny,” Lucifer finally says, removing his shoes. “What’s wrong? Shaken from waking up with the devil?”

He watches as something in John’s expression stiffens, the mage turning to lie on his back and face the roof rather than the devil. It causes Lucifer’s nose to flare minutely in anger, the fallen angel narrowing his eyes. When stuffing two stubborn people in the room together it can be found that not much is said, aggression and pent up emotions welling within the space until one is likely to explode first.

Unknown to them, however, is that Mick walks past the door to the library. He stops with his beer bottle in hand, a smile taking place as his eyes narrow mischievously. It takes only a few words to Gideon and the deed is done, the ship surprisingly cooperative with Mick’s ideas. Is he a fool? No. He’s quiet. He doesn’t understand magic or science or whatever the hell most of the people in the ship go on about. But he’s no fool. He can read people and they all forget that fact, passing him off as the muscle when in reality he’s one of the best when it comes to interacting with others. He’s seen the tension between the weasel and the devil. It’s a ticking time-bomb waiting to go off. And what do you do with a bomb?

You either use it to set the place on fire (which he wouldn’t do, and isn’t allowed to do, with his team stuck inside) or you contain it.

So he asks Gideon to lock both library doors.

Surprisingly, she agrees.

Inside the room, neither individual is aware of it, the locks silently clicking into place.

“Come now, Johnny,” Lucifer bites back a growl, keeping his voice honey smooth. “You’re not really going to sleep on that dingy couch?”

“It suits me just fine, mate,” John sniffs, tucking an arm behind his head, eyes closed. “Managed to sleep before you and that monstrosity showed up.”

“Considering you kept falling asleep everywhere, I don’t know if that’s true,” Lucifer points out, his words jabbing at the exorcist. “I’m sure there’s still an imprint on my couch back at my penthouse.”

“I’m _so sorry_ I caused a groove in your Italian leather,” John grouches, throwing a glare to the devil. “Give me a couple of decades and I should be able to pay for it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lucifer stresses out between clenched teeth. “You know that.”

“Well now,” John swings his body to sit up, staring at Lucifer, “I’m not quite sure that I do, Sammy.”

Done with the conversation, nose flaring at the nickname, Lucifer pushes himself away from the bed, striding to the door. Snorting, John watches him make his way, stopping in front of the metal slates to wait for them to open. A second passes, then another. Frowning, John stands and makes his way to the door, waving his hand as if to set off some kind of sensor.

“Well, is the bloody thing broken?” Lucifer asks, exasperated. “Don’t tell me I’ll have to rip my way through because trust me, I have the anger for it.”

“I would highly advise you against that, Mr. Morningstar,” Gideon’s voice rings out. “I am simply having some trouble with my electronic locks. If you give me time I should be able to restart the charging system and have them open.”

“Any chance you can hurry that up, luv?” John asks, leaning against the wall. “Need a spell to quicken it up?”

“With all due respect, Mr. Constantine,” Gideon says, “if either you or Mr. Morningstar meddle with my programming or physical structure I will open the airlock and disperse you both throughout time.”

“Not as though you have magic strong enough to actually do anything, do you, Johnny?” Lucifer smiles down at John. “At least, not without one of these many toys to help you.”

Breathing in a deep breath, John analyses Lucifer for a bare moment before spinning on his heel and making his way back to the couch, pulling out a book as he goes and burying his nose in it once he sits, knuckles white as he grips the binding. Lucifer blinks in surprise, expecting an explosive throwback of words or literal fire sprung from his hands. As it is, Lucifer simply makes his way back to the bed, eyeing John with a deep curiosity.

“What on earth is going on with you lately?” Lucifer asks, standing by the bed as he examines John. “Where’s that fire and energy always bursting out of you? Where’s the man that gives as good as he gets?”

It’s with a deep sigh that John places the book down, his dark eyes lifting to look back at Lucifer. “I’m tired, Luci,” John finally rasps. “Believe it or not, but I’m really tired.”

“Well come lie down then!” Lucifer gestures to the bed. “Honestly, you have this right here and yet you stick to the couch like some sort of teenager-“

“Not just that kind of tired,” John interrupts, rubbing at his face. “I’ve had to do some difficult things in the last few months, Lucifer. And I just…”

Hesitating, Lucifer slowly makes his way over to John, closely taking in the lines along his face. “You really are tired, aren’t you? What happened?”

“Desmond, Neron, Astra, cancer and quite a few other things,” John gives a grim smile. “Don’t look so surprised. It’s like you once said, I remind you of a Hell of earth, don’t I?”

Lucifer goes to respond, but the doors click open. They both turn at once to take in the opened entrances. Before he can stop him Lucifer watches as John makes his way out the room, head bowed down as he goes.

“Well then,” Lucifer fiddles with his sleeves, “I suppose we have more to catch up on than I thought.”

*

Now, there’s always been a certain level of fascination with the devil. How can there not be? You hear boogyman stories as a child, about the scary entity that convinces the pure into sin and stains the clean slate of the merciful. Lucifer, who brought a rebellion upon Heaven in order to spread free will to all, causing a war that got so out of hand that a new realm was created for him to rule over. A golden cage for God’s favourite son.

The favourite son that grates on John’s damn nerves until he thinks he’ll kill a man. On purpose. And not out of self-defense or for the greater good.

Basically murder out of pure, vindictive pleasure. That’s what wells up inside of him when the wanker opens his mouth and says stupid shit. Some of it actually hurts, like a small thorn buried in his side that’s always been there, except now someone is applying pressure to the wound while wriggling it without abandon. Completely careless, not thought as the digs are thrown out and pain delivered. But then again, Lucifer has never really shown any consideration for John. Not since the bloody disaster that was San Francisco.

Not that the devil probably even remembers.

Still, there’s some comfort in being able to sit back in a chair with a beer in hand and watch the latest footy game with Mick. It takes some stress off, especially since the other man himself isn’t big on talking or pressing John for answers about his relationship with the ruler of the underworld. It’s a little hard to explain that once you exorcise enough demons even their boss becomes interested eventually. It seems absurd that the devil would ever take interest in a scrawny warlock from Liverpool that was finding his feet in America. Then, low and behold, one night while banishing a particularly nasty _Naraka_ from a nightclub John had turned around and found the great Satan himself lounging against a couch. It was supposed to be a brief conversation shared over a glass of scotch. It somehow turned into a bottle of vodka, multiple limes, and John may have sucked salt from Lucifer’s collarbone and vice-versa.

They may have done more than that on account of how John eventually woke up in a hotel room with only his pants on and his belt thrown across the room with his zipper undone and bruises in the shape of fingers along his hips.

There are very few nights John regrets forgetting more.

After that, it had been a hodgepodge of here-and-there's, none as intimate as the first time. A ghost hunting trip in Ecuador, a small mishap exorcism in Belgium, a little tizzy in New Zealand where a spirit summoning went wrong. Just little visits whenever John was coming too close to interfering with Lucifer’s own little vacation plans on Earth or if he was messing with a demon sent specifically on Lucifer’s orders. Those times had always developed into their own little adventures in the forms of snippy conversations and alcohol abuse. They had become familiar with each other, their personalities clashing and almost always resulting in a simmering tension that they used to play and con each other in a mistrustful dance.

It was fun.

Then San Francisco happened. A young lady possessed by a demon who John couldn’t save. And Lucifer, well, he had just been along for the ride. Had laughed when the entire thing was over, said that if she hadn’t made a deal in the first place none of it would have happened as if it wasn’t the life of her sister she had traded her own soul for. From there it had swelled. Blowing up into heated words between the two of them, John accusing Lucifer of being inept at keeping demons in line and Lucifer slinging back the names of John’s failures. Neither of them would ever apologise, of course. Not only did that not have a close enough relationship to call for it but it wasn’t something either of them did. They almost reconciled. Both their fits of anger had simmered down by the time they saw each other again, but it was a passing comment about a certain soul in Hell that snapped the tension back in place.

“Weasel.”

And Lucifer’s recent behaviour, well, that was strange. Trying to charm every bloke and lass on the ship. Though whether it’s for Charlie’s benefit or John’s ire he’s not sure.

“Weasel.”

The incident in the bed had been new. Not uncommon for John’s overall life experience, but new for him and Lucifer. And the wings. He hadn’t seen them in years, the strongest proof there is of the devil’s divinity. Warm and soft, yet capable of intense defense and powerful gusts of wind. And then Luci told John he had cut them off. Just taken a blade to his own skin and tore through those muscles and sinew that connected those powerful feathered features to his body. Maze must have helped, grabbing her demon blades and hacking away.

“Weasel!”

John jerks at the pen thrown at him, the item clattering on the ground as he looks at Mick in indignation. The thief simply stares back, brows lowered in a brooding fashion.

“What the hell, mate?” John chucks the pen back. “What was that for?”

“The game ended ten minutes ago and you’re still thinking about the feathered freak,” Mick leans forward. “What’d he do to you, anyway?”

“Just said some shit,” John sniffs, standing and pulling on his coat. “Nothing I hadn’t heard before.”

“Hmm,” Mick watches John leave the parlour before turning back to the TV.

~~~

“I present to you England, 1356,” Nate declares out at the bridge, lifting a book in hand. “Now, according to Lucifer, he was dining with a couple named Lord and Lady West-shield, a rich couple that managed to survive the Black Death with minimal damage. They’re holding a dinner party tonight, so Lucifer can go in with us as his guests and ask if they still have the gifts he gave them.”

“And then I offer them this as a trade,” Lucifer holds up a thick ring with a large diamond embedded. “A completely normal ring.”

“Normal?” Ray admires the ring. “That- that’s platinum. With one of the largest diamonds on a ring I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, well, yes,” Lucifer pulls back to examine the item. “Just something I picked up. It’s bad faith to ask for a gift back without any replacement.”

“Surprisingly well-prepared,” Sara admires, nodding. “Alright, everyone’s dressed and ready to go. Remember, we’re supposed to be noblemen, so I want everyone to be on their best behaviour.”

“Relax, Captain,” Nate assures her. “We’ve got this. Even Mick’s gotten all spiffed up.”

Said man hums in agreement, decked in dark pants and red tunic. “Simple. I like it.”

“Yes, medieval England didn’t have the most exciting fashion wear,” Lucifer sighs, patting down his own dark tunic and red cloak.

“At least you lot get to wear pants,” Charlie grouches, meddling with the hem of her blue dress, a white cap on her head. “I forgot how drab these bloody things are.”

“It’ll just be for a short while,” Ava prompts her, her own blonde hair braided back and decked in a long green dress. “Lucifer has to do most of the work and we’ll communicate through the coms.”

“I feel rather like that spy,” Lucifer chuckles, briefly admiring the comm before fitting it in his ear.

“James Bond?” Behrad asks, clicking his fingers.

“No, the one who replaced the British sceptre in 1738,” Lucifer hums. “She was a dashing woman. Believe it or not but spies did exist before those movies came out.”

“And the real sceptre has since been used for more magical purposes by the mage community through the ages,” John intercedes in his brown tunic with yellow embroidery around the edges. “And relax luv. You don’t have to wear these bloody tights.”

“Yes, well, that’s what you get for wearing tunics instead of a robe,” Lucifer chides.

“Dress,” Mick grunts.

“Robe.”

Charlie smirks at that as Behrad and Nate make pinched faces in agreement, shuffling on their feet as they pick the tights away from certain areas. Sara hustles them all off the ship, the massive vessel parked just a little ways away from the small castle they head towards. Already it’s milling with people, servants running around with baskets laden with food.

“These guys don’t look too put out by the recent plague,” Ava observes as they walk through the archway, firelight from the torches flickering against the stone walls.

“I had a hand in that,” Lucifer murmurs. “This area was particularly devastated. I granted the West-shield’s a favour in order for one back. The ring I gave them was just a gift out of good faith.”

“Very charitable, you are,” John grabs a roll of bread off a passing tray, snagging a bite. “I saw we split up. People on the exits in case we need a quick getaway and someone watching Lucifer’s back while he makes the trade.”

“Good idea,” Sara nods. “Nate, Behrad, and Charlie on the west exit and Ava, Ray and I on the east. John, you go with Lucifer.”

Before either of them can say anything against that the rest of the team disperses, leaving the exorcist and devil alone. They share a single exasperated look before they head to the main feasting table, the couple at the head seats clearly the West-shield’s. They spring up as soon as they see Lucifer, gladly welcoming him to the table and offering him the seat next to the husband. Lucifer smoothy thanks them and slides into place, John settling in the seat next to him.

  
“Who is your companion?” Lady West-shield asks, brown hair spilling over her shoulders, a ruby necklace around her neck.

“Now, Lidia, I’m sure he doesn’t want to talk about his help,” Victor pats her hand, his own robes a similar red to her necklace. “We are of course delighted to have you here Lord Morningstar. If you want we can send your servant to the kitchens where he might be more comfortable?”

“That!” Lucifer quickly interjects, glancing at John. “That will be unnecessary. John may stay here.”

“John,” Lidia’s brows furrow. “Short for Jonathan, I assume? How strange for it to be shortened in such a way.”

“No stranger than your taste in jewelry, luv,” John uses his cup to gesture to her necklace. “Quite a heavy set of rocks you got there. You wouldn’t happen to have a ring to match?”

“No, she does not,” Victor eyes John. “The necklace was a gift from Lord Morningstar, along with a silver ring.”

“It’s a no-go,” Charlie’s voice comes over the com. “The loom part was a gold ring.”

“Well, as delightful as this has been I believe we have to leave,” John abruptly stands, gesturing to Lucifer. “Come on then, lovely meal, thanks for having us and all that.”

“We’re heading back to the ship, you and Lucifer meet us there,” Sara’s voice comes over the com.

“Got it,” John murmurs back, turning away from the table.

“Before you leave!” Victor stands extending a hand to Lucifer. “I have a special guest I’d like you to meet.”

Both John and Lucifer freeze at that, eyes locking on the figure that appears from the crowd.

~~~

“ _A Roman Catholic priest-_ “

“Lucifer,” John tugs at the manacles wrapped around his wrists.

“I mean, the sod wasn’t able to actually do anything, but a _Roman Catholic priest!_ ”

“Lucifer!” John growls, yanking at his chains.

“Yes, yes, I’ll have us out in a moment,” Lucifer drawls, pulling his own hand and holding in a sigh of relief when his celestial strength works to break the chains. “But really, it’s the audacity of it. I do them a favour and they repay me by searching for a priest to expel me! And he wasn’t even a senior!”

“He had enough birchwood powder to knock us both out,” John grunts, pressing his back against the cold stone wall as Lucifer stands in front of him. “Now get me out of here before they try to sacrifice me.”

“Calm down,” Lucifer raises his brows. “I need to do this quietly before they come back down with some kind of ceremonial blade.”

“They have no idea that shit doesn’t work on you, do they?”

“Not unless they have a blade from Hell, no,” Lucifer steps closer, reaching up to grab the chains connecting John’s hands to the wall, effectively boxing him in as he does so. “Close your eyes.”

“Not on your nelly,” John breathes, staring hard at the devil to ignore the warmth seeping from their close chests.

“Now, John, you know I’d do nothing like that without a discussion first,” Lucifer flirts, tightening his grip. “The stone will break. Close your eyes to avoid the dust, poppet.”

“Don’t call me poppet,” John closes his eyes.

And then there’s the break, that crumbling tremble of the base of the chains being pulled from the very stone wall itself. The cuffs remain around John’s wrist just like Lucifer’s, the tight constraint of the metal with cruel intension sending disarming shivers down both their spines. Lucifer rests his hands flat against the cracks in the wall, breathing in deeply and bowing his head forward. This position brings Lucifer closer to John, the warlock’s eyes still closed. Both breath in deep breaths, Lucifer taking in John’s dust-covered features and a scratch left across his right cheek. The dark stubble that shadows the area, the way he can see John swallow and watch the movement of his throat down to his rising chest.

“Time to go, Johnny Boy,” Lucifer breathes, pulling back.

Clearing his throat, John nods, striding to the door. They make their way quickly to the exit, easily dismissing all opponents silently as they go. It’s as soon as they step outside the main entrance that John swears, pushing Lucifer back so they both press against the walls.

“What?” Lucifer tries to look around the corner before John pushes him back. “Oh, for Dad’s sake, John, what?”

“There’s about fifty-odd men out there, all armed,” John hisses. “We need to be smart about this.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so!” Lucifer scoffs. “I’ll simply go out and give them a flash of the old devil face.”

“No,” John hisses, grabbing Lucifer’s arm. “You drive the lot of them insane and you change history. You have to be discrete.”

“Well, why didn’t you _say so?_ ” Lucifer hisses. “I’ll fly us out of here.”

“What, with those wings you always bloody cut off?” John grounds out.

“In case you missed the memo, they grow back,” Lucifer grabs John by the shoulders, pulling him in close as his wings flare out. “We’ll be at the ship in barely a minute.”

John narrows his eyes. In revenge he wraps an arm around Lucifer’s waist, pushing them both closer together. The devil snaps to him in surprise before they take off, pushing into the night sky. It takes a few moments at most for them to land next to the Waverider, John releasing Lucifer and stepping back. It’s despairingly easy to forget for a moment who they are, milling in silence outside in the night air.

Then the Waverider’s lights flicker on and they usher into the hanger, Lucifer giving his wings and their ruffled feathers an annoyed glance before briskly tucking them away. Sara cocks her head in curiosity at the way Lucifer makes straight for the library, only throwing out a few words about some ‘damn novice trying to fish a shark’ as he goes.

“There was a priest, luv,” John fills her in, sighing as he leans against the wall of the hallway they reside in. “Where are the others? Why didn’t you lot come looking for us?”

“Everyone else is resting. And in all honesty, we weren’t a hundred percent sure you’d want an interruption,” Sara raises a brow. “Don’t scowl at me, John. I have a girlfriend to get back to. Go tend to your own piece of divinity.”

“Oh, hardy-har,” John provides a mocking smile before spinning on his heel, trying to tug at his tunic as he goes.

“You’re covered in dirt!” Sara calls after him.

“I’ll take a bloody shower!”

And he actually does. He throws away the bloody medieval clothes, grabs his red robe, and makes his way the washroom. One of his favourite places in the shop on account for the strong water pressure and hot temperatures the large showers provide. It beats against the back of his neck and shoulders, the steam wafting up to choke everything in the room including his thoughts. He watches as the water turns grey at his feet, flooding away the filth that stuck and layered his skin like a thin coating of plastic wrap. It leaves him feeling raw without it, his surface warm and pink and flushed. The towels themselves are decadent, soft, and white, the type that doesn’t leave red rashes from being rough and bristled. It’s not a bad catch, getting to live on the Waverider. They provide simple pleasures to make up for the constant threat of death.

So different from the mill house. From his Newcastle house and his apartment and every other place, he’s ever stayed in where the lack of comfort followed him through the door after every gruesome crime scene. It’s dangerous to become so attached to it, to enjoy the obscene pleasure of warm water and the feel of his robe over his skin. To enjoy having time to close his eyes and rest in the steam-filled room for just a moment, feeling something in his chest and nose loosen when he inhales deeply. Slipping slippers on his feet has never been so easy, the items a comfort against the metal floor as he makes his way back to the library.

Where the devil is sitting on his bed, not a speck of dirt on him. But his wings, the massive feathery appendages, are out as Lucifer tries fruitlessly to angle them around so he can fix crooked feathers and comb them back in place.

John snorts.

At once Lucifer snaps to look at him, surprise appearing before he settles into his usual cool confidence. “Well. Look who decided to come back to the library.”

“Only good place to get a nap,” John shrugs, walking over to the bed. “Besides, the kitchen’s too dangerous to sleep in when you can have whatever food you want at whatever time.”

“Particularly whiskey,” Lucifer grunts, trying to reach over his shoulder to fix the feathers at the base.

“For the love of- hold on,” John snipes, moving over the kneel on the bed. “You’re a mess.”

“I’m surprised that you’re willing to touch me,” Lucifer mentions, watching John warily.

“Yeah, well,” John straightens a cluster of feathers, feeling the wings give a pleasing hum under his hands. “What can I say, mate? You caught me in a good mood.”

“Lucky me,” Lucifer closes his eyes, head bowing down. “That’s- welcomed. Thank you.”

John nearly jolts in surprise at Lucifer’s vulnerability, taking in his hands buried in soft feathers. It would be easy to just pull and pluck them out. To wrap his hand around the base of the wing and mutter a quick spell of pain. He wouldn’t, though. Lucifer seems to know this, his wings pushing further back into John’s hands. John presses closer to Lucifer’s back in return, pressing himself between the two wings and resting his head against the back of Lucifer’s neck. The skin is sweltering warm, smelling rich and clean never mind that John _knows_ for a fact that Lucifer wasn’t in the bathroom. Not while John was. Although it wouldn’t surprise him if the devil stowed away or found a magical item to tidy himself up. Looks and presentation had always been an important aspect for the fallen angel.

“Constantine,” Lucifer asks, voice strangely tight and husked. “I hope you are aware of what you’re doing.”

“M’ not doing anything,” John closes his eyes, allowing his lips to rasp against Lucifer’s skin.

“This may,” John feels Lucifer swallow, “not be the best idea at the time.”

At that John’s eyes come open with a frown, the exorcist pulling back. “Since when do you hesitate on these kinds of things?”

Lucifer rolls his shoulders, clearing his throat. “Things haven’t been the same between us, Johnny. Not since I mentioned-“

“I get it, mate,” John mutters, moving back. “If you don’t want to then just say it.”

“John,” Lucifer’s hand wraps around his wrist, the devil twisting around to look at the other man. “Since my time on earth I’ve- well, I’ve been prompted to think on things. Relationships and such.”

“Have you now?” John swings his legs over the side of the bed, ready to stand.

“If you want to fuck, John, we can,” Lucifer’s words prompt him to pause, “but for what it’s worth I’m… well, I’m sorry for what I said. Back at San Francisco and the things I’ve said here.”

At that John slowly sinks back onto the bed, his throat bobbing. “I wasn’t the nicest after San Francisco myself. Sorry, mate.”

Lucifer raises his shoulders in a lazy shrug, the two of them stewing in their silence. To break it John reaches out and strokes his hand down the wing closest to him, Lucifer breathing in deeply and closing his eyes at the sensation.

“What does it feel like?” John asks, the tips of the feathers flowing smoothly through his fingers.

“Similar to a hand running through your hair, or stroking your back,” Lucifer leans in towards John, the two of them shuffled into the center of the bed. “A soothing sensation, really.”

“Interesting,” John murmurs, running his hand down the arching marginal coverts, moving downwards to follow the bone and muscle to near the base of the wing. “And when I do this?”

Lucifer shifts slightly, a small smile fighting to take place. “Still the same. What are you attempting here, poppet?”

“Just trying to see,” John presses closer, placing his knees on either side of Lucifer’s legs, reaching around so he can press his hand right between Lucifer’s wings, “if I can find another button to push, luv.”

“Luv, hm?” Lucifer places his hands on John’s waist, moving them up to rub at his ribs under his shirt. “And you didn’t argue against poppet.”

“I’m feeling charitable,” John moves both hands to Lucifer’s shoulders. “Are we actually going to get a move on, or do you just want to chat all night?"

Lucifer releases a short laugh, sliding his hands to John’s hips to haul the other man on his lap. A short puff of breath leaves John’s lips as he straddles Lucifer, giving a slow roll of his hips. Pride flushes through him at the groan that follows, Lucifer’s pupils expanding, and his grip hardening around John’s hips.

“What do you want, darling?” Lucifer asks, breathless as John grinds against him. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done anything like this.”

“I don’t remember the first time,” John grips Lucifer’s shoulders, reaching a hand down to cup the warm cock straining against silk pants, the devil shuddering in response. “You got me too bloody drunk.” 

Laughing, Lucifer surges forward to push John on his back, bracing himself up above him. “I suppose I’ll have to make up for that.”

“Bloody right, you will,” John grabs his collar, pulling him in. “I’m hoping you live up to your reputation.”

“Is that a challenge?” Lucifer’s wings flare out behind him.

“It most certainly is,” John growls, “so hurry the fuck up, you bastard.”

The surge that follows is quick, Lucifer clashing his mouth against John’s. The gasp from John is swallowed by Lucifer’s own tongue, the devil nipping gently at John’s lower lip before moving to kiss the cut along his cheek. John releases a shaky breath at the sentimentality packed in that little action, at the way the touch is so much lighter than the weight of Lucifer pressing between his legs and the grasp of one hand effectively pinning two above his head.

Those feelings immediately boil under his skin as Lucifer’s lips trail downwards, his free hand moving to pull open John’s robe. The scrape of facial hair against his collar bones sends a pleased flush over the area, John groaning as Lucifer pulls back to undo his robe. The devil raises his brows at John’s stark nakedness under the flimsy fabric, the way John unabashedly raises his brows in response.

“Nothing anyone on this ship hasn’t seen before,” John smirks. “Except Ava. I’m pretty sure it’d give the bird a heart attack.”

“That it would,” Lucifer purrs, resting his free hand against John’s hip. “Now, I want to know if I can make you sing, Constantine.”

He nearly does with the first touch, John sucking in a deep breath as Lucifer wraps his hand around John’s cock, stroking gently upwards to swipe his thumb over the head. It causes a strained sound to pull itself from John’s throat, the exorcist nearly bucking up into the dry drag of flesh against flesh, watching avidly as Lucifer reaches over to grab the lube from the table near the bed. The devil sends him a single grin before slicking his palm, enjoying the cut-off groan John stalls at the first smooth stroke by slapping a freed hand over his mouth.

“ _Holy-_ “

And Lucifer is flying back, moving to sit upright as the ship suddenly jerks thanks to an oncoming time-quake. John swears, nearly rolling off the bed at the momentum while Ray slaps a hand over his eyes from where he stumbles at the doorway. Lucifer tucks his wings away as everything is thrown about to minimise the damage to the room, hiking his own pants up to remain a level of decency and pressing his body on top of John. Once the shaking dies down John curses, pounding on Lucifer’s shoulder.

“I’m not made of bloody glass-“

“I’m an immortal,” Lucifer argues back. “And I’m sure Dr. Palmer would like to avoid an eyeful if the shade of his face is any indication.”

Leaning against the doorframe Ray is indeed flushed a bright red, his hands still clapped over his eyes. “Is this- uh - is this a bad time?”

“Not at all, squire,” John growls, a sinister bite to his words. “We weren’t doing _anything_ important.”

“Sarcasm, right,” Ray notes, blindly stumbling out of the door. “That time-quake was caused by something that Sara wants to talk about at the bridge. So, um, I could come back later, or-“

“Give us a bloody minute!” John snaps, Ray fleeing at the harsh tone.

Lucifer swears, quickly standing, watching as John rolls to sit up and rub at his wrists. “Does this happen often?”

“More than I’d like,” John hisses, standing and shoving on his dress shirt, buttoning it up as he looks for other items of clothing. “Where is the bloody- there. The lot of ‘em can’t wait one damn second before everything goes to Hell-“

“Oh trust me, I was never disturbed in Hell,” Lucifer quips, pulling on a sleek button vest himself. “However, if this was a Hell loop it wouldn’t surprise me. And a time-quake? Really?”

“Trust me, I didn’t come up with it,” John glowers, sliding his tie around his collar. “Fucks sake, the world better be bloody ending or this place is going in flames-“

“Now now,” Lucifer leans down to capture John in a kiss before pulling back. “The best rewards are those we wait for. Delayed satisfaction and all of that.”

Enraged, John swears under his breath, stomping after the ex-king of Hell.

~~~

“What?” John snaps, leaving the parlour to pace across the bridge. “What do you mean pyramids?”

“You know, the pyramids!” Charlie insists, raising her hands. “The ones you lot made during the Stone Age? Where you used all the stones to build them? I told the woman I gave the loom part to that she should drop it off at the cave. But clearly she never did, so we should go visit her temple.”

A few seconds of disbelief echoes between them all, everyone paused to look at Charlie in disbelief. Finally, Lucifer laughs, breaking the silence and only laughing harder as John whacks his shoulder. The exorcist hisses at the devil, Lucifer only chuckling and pointing to Charlie in response.

“Temple?” Sara widens her eyes in disbelief before raising a hand to rub at her brow. “Charlie, the pyramids came _after_ the Stone Age. We went too far back in time the first time around. Lucifer never took the ring because it _wasn’t there yet.”_

“And what temple?” Nate asks. “Who did you give the ring too?”

“My old girl, Cleo,” Charlie frowns. “She should have taken it to the cave.”

“No, she wouldn’t’ve,” John grits his teeth, packing his pocket for cigarettes that aren’t there. “Enchantress would have hidden the ring. The best way to locate its most recent location is to do a searching spell at my house.”

“Well, off to London then!” Lucifer says, pleased. “My, this had all been rather funny, hasn’t it? Do you lot often time-kidnap the wrong person?”

“We didn’t kidnap you,” John huffs, throwing Lucifer a small glare. “So you can just-“

“Return home,” Sara pushes in, nodding to Lucifer. “Now that we know you didn’t have the ring you can go back to your own time in Los Angeles while we head to John’s house to do the spell.”

Hesitating, Lucifer appears startled. “Well, now, let’s not be so hasty. You are dealing with gods, after all. Having the devil on your side may be beneficial.”

“It’s too risky,” Ava agrees, shaking her head. “It’s like you and Charlie said the other night, divinities from different beliefs try to keep separate to avoid massive conflict. The last thing we need is an army of angels diving down along with everything else.”

“I’m sorry, Luci,” Charlie pats the devil’s shoulder. “But this isn’t your fight. I shouldn’t have dragged you into it in the first place. Do me a favour and watch out for the humans on the ground, yeah? They could use a bit of devilish luck.”

“Right,” Lucifer mumbles, sending John a glance. “I suppose they could.”

~~~

Lux is closed for the night. That in itself tells Lucifer that Maze won’t be upstairs, he and John lingering at the outside entrance. The devil puffs away at a smoke, flicking it away once done, crushing it under his heel. John leans back against the wall, feeling the chilling bite of the Los Angeles winter cold seeping through his coat.

“So,” Lucifer hums. “I suppose you didn’t need me for that long after all.”

“You could come,” John clears his throat. “It’d be easy to move your bed back. If you’d want, I mean.”

“Now Johnny,” Lucifer’s eyes soften, coming over to cup John’s cheek in hand. “You sound as though you’ll miss me.”

“I might need to come back and visit after we finish our business with the loom,” John shrugs. “Have to make sure you don’t forget about me, after all.”

“Don’t you know?” Lucifer murmurs, sliding his hand to cup the back of John’s neck. “I never forget my favourites.”

It’d be a lie to say that Lucifer doesn’t sigh into the kiss, sliding his hand down the length of John’s spine to his lower back. The way rough hands settle on his own hips, pulling Lucifer in closer, as though John is desperate to gain as much of him as he can.

Eventually, they have to pull back, both breathing heavily and still gripping onto the other.

“Go save the world, Constantine,” Lucifer murmurs. “When done, I’ll spoil you.”

“Will you, now?” John asks, his calm demeanor ruined by the way his eyes darken.

“With every sin you could wish for,” Lucifer scrapes his teeth against John’s neck. “So come back, Hellblazer. Upend the fates like you do everything else.”

*

Monogamy is not for the devil. It’s bland, not to mention a true crime to tie himself down to one person when oh-so-clearly there are so many poor and desperate souls who require a night of pleasure to lighten their lives. Yet for some reason ever since leaving the bloody time-ship there’s just such a general hesitance to pull anyone into his bed.

Of course, he just said goodbye to John the night before the last, but he has no idea how long this time nonsense lasts. Who’s to say that John won’t pop back fifty years in the future? No point in waiting that long so may as well rip off the bandage and all of that.

And yet Lucifer still hasn’t done so. Can’t seem to find a single person in Lux, or all of LA for that matter, who entices and challenges him as much as the warlock. None of them know who he truly is and throws themselves at him as John does. None of them have seen his face or his wings. And at a crime scene, he spotted a rugged man with dirty-blonde hair, causing Lucifer to think for a second that the bastard had decided to pop back in at the most inconvenient time.

This is why it isn’t a surprise when the elevator doors open and John Constantine walks in like he’s done so all his life. Lucifer raises his brow and grabs another glass to fill, grabbing his best scotch off a shelf to please them both and set something warm in their stomachs.

“Well, hello poppet,” Lucifer chimes as he pours the drinks, turning around with them in hand. “I’d say it’s a surprise but it’s only been two days-“

And he gains an armful of warlock, Constantine suddenly in front of his and wrapping his arms around the devil, burying his face in his neck. Lucifer freezes, his own arms still out and holding the glasses.

“Weeks,” John croaks. “It’s been weeks. Reality was changed for a while as well.”

“Oh. That blip I felt yesterday? Yes, it was rather bothersome. Amenadiel couldn’t stop sneezing,” Lucifer chides, clicking his tongue. “Those fates should really know better. But obviously, you and your merry little lot set things right or we all wouldn’t be here, would we?”

“You could tell?” John pulls back. “That reality was changed?”

“Just for a moment,” Lucifer places the scotch down on the piano. “I recognised that everything changed between one second and the next, that there was a rift in reality before it was set back. You’d be surprised how often it happens, really. Much more than you humans are probably aware of.”

“Right,” John runs a hand through his hair. “Right. Of course, you bloody did. Never mind the fuckin’ sitcoms and Astra and-“

“Astra?” Lucifer cuts in, frowning. “The girl? I thought- John, you look rather pale. What has-“

“I got her out,” John interrupts, both hands coming up to curl around his glass of scotch. “She’s at my house right now, talking to the ghost of her mum. Charlie stayed with her punk band. Sara got abducted so we’re working out what to do with that. Right, when things seemed alright, you know, they went to shit and no one, not even bloody Supergirl, has an idea of where she could be.”

“John,“ Lucifer reaches out towards the exorcist. “Really, perhaps we should sit-“

So they do. Lucifer pries the glass from John’s stiff fingers and leads him over to the couch. There’s a blanket from when the urchin has spent the night with Maze, the two of them deciding to use his absence as an excuse to hold a slumber party. It proves fruitful now when Lucifer leads John over to it, the blanket thrown over the couch, and offering an extra level of comfort as they sit. John follows Lucifer obediently, the lack of protest worrying the later more than anything.

“So you won,” Lucifer summarises, “then celebrated, and after you left Clotho your friend Sara was abducted?”

“And none of us noticed,” John smirks. “Too drunk to turn around and question the flashing lights.”

“I see,” Lucifer murmurs. “That does sound bothersome. If she was kidnapped during the good old punk days then what are you doing back in this time?”

“The rest of them wanted to do recon or something before heading back to search more,” John rolls his head to the side, eyeing Lucifer. “They don’t need me for that, so Astra and I are on what you’d call a little break. Or I am, at least. Astra’ll most likely stay at the house, she isn’t too fond of the lot of them.”

“Makes sense,” Lucifer concedes. “Taking the time to enjoy her freedom. And you chose to come here for your limited free time?”

“What can I say,” John shrugs, leaning in. “Besides, if I remember right you made a promise of some sort.”

“To spoil you,” Lucifer follows suit. “So tell me, John Constantine, what do you desire?”

It’s mean to ask it in his compelling voice, to lean into the exorcist and smirk as the blonde follows him as though pulled by a magnet. But it’s worth it for the way John’s eyes darken, the man not even trying to fight the compulsion.

“Ruin me,” John chokes out. “I- god, that’s strong magic. Ruin me, Luci.”

“As long as you promise not to mention my father again, I think that won’t be a problem,” Lucifer curls a hand around John’s hip. “Do you have a safeword?”

“Salem,” John smiles at the look on Lucifer’s face. “It was right awful, that time was.”

“Tell me about it after I’ve fucked you,” Lucifer stands, pulling John up with him.

It finally makes sense why Lucifer kept his bed empty for those two days when he didn’t know if John would come back. Looking at the warlock as he falls back onto the sheets, propping up on his elbows to grab at Lucifer’s shirt and pull him in, it is unimaginable that anyone would be able to fill the space as extravagantly as John. That anyone could look at the devil with such unshakable confidence and want.

“Shirt, off,” John instructs, throwing his own trench coat aside.

“Patience,” Lucifer crawls across the bed to John. “There’s no need to rush, darling.”

Nevertheless, he deftly undoes the buttons of his shirt as John pulls him in for a kiss, the warlock’s hand licked around and running up Lucifer’s back under the shirt. It makes removing the article of clothing difficult as John seems unwilling to pull back, to allow Lucifer the space needed to rid himself of the item and hopefully do the same for John. He slots his leg between the mage’s thighs, delighted in the unbridled moan it forces from John, the warlock pressing his head back against the pillow to arch his hips into the touch. It doesn’t take that long for Lucifer to strip them both, discarding his own clothes with abandon before taking John’s thighs in hand and gripping them as he bites at John’s neck, the warlock squeezing his legs around Lucifer’s waist.

“Please,” John groans, rubbing himself against Lucifer’s stomach. “Just fuck me, please.”

Lucifer pulls back, ready to grab needed supplies from the bedside drawer. He pauses, however, taking in the dark rings under John’s eyes and the way those hands tremble where they grip at the sheets. The way that there is so much exhaustion and worry etched into every line of his face, how he seems to cling to Lucifer as if simply savouring the touch of another living being.

And somewhere, in the back of Lucifer’s brain, the good doctor is listing the reasons why what they are doing is not a good idea. There’s another organ protesting just as loudly, but once the doctor’s thought has been introduced Lucifer can no longer ignore it.

So he slicks his palm and takes John in hand. The warlock immediately spreads his legs, arching his back to prompt the angel onward.

“I have to make up for when we were interrupted,” Lucifer murmurs. “You’ve been very good for me, Johnny.”

It doesn’t take long after that, Lucifer continuing to stroke John through his release. Once John regains his breath he immediately sits up, reaching for between the devil's own legs.

“Tonight was about finishing what was interrupted, dear,” Lucifer grasps John’s shoulder. “It’s quite late.”

“You promised,” John presses close, teeth grazing across the muscle of Lucifer’s neck and shoulder. “You promised you would ruin me.”

“And I will,” Lucifer assures the other man, “but first, let’s lay down some. As you said, we have a few days for me to pick you apart.”

It takes a little more convincing, Lucifer assuring John that he in no way needs to be satisfied as they lie down. And it’s true, in a way. The warlock had become riled up significantly faster than the devil, a feat Lucifer finds somewhat impressive.

But it’s having the exorcist asleep with his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, arm slung around his waist, which causes Lucifer the greatest discomfort. He shouldn’t enjoy the simple touch as much as he does.

~~~

“So… you didn’t go all the way?” Linda sits back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other. “Why do you think that is?”

Sighing, Lucifer raises his hands in exasperation. “He was emotionally distraught, doctor! It’s not _really_ pleasurable for either parties if one participant is simply going through the motions. I’m the devil. I hold myself to a higher standard than that.”

“And also,” Linda slowly suggests, “you felt John’s vulnerability and didn’t want to take advantage of that.”

“Yes, well, things ended frustratingly fast, I’m afraid,” Lucifer waves a hand towards the window. “He hadn’t even woken up when I left. For all I know he’s still asleep like a dead corpse exhausted after a day of reanimation.”

“Gonna ignore that last part,” Linda decides, tapping her notebook with her pen. “I think that you honestly like John and thus felt guilt at the idea of taking advantage of him.”

“Well of course I like him,” Lucifer huffs. “He’s one of the only humans around here that knows a decent bit of magic.”

“Lucifer,” Linda pins him with a look. “I think you should go and talk to John. Or at the very least spend time with him to work out what it is that you’re feeling and be truthful about it because it sounds to me like he must trust you at least a little bit to come to you after a disaster.”

The devil has nothing to say to that, not even snagging a lollie from the bowl.

~~~

The exorcist is still asleep in the bed when Lucifer gets back, Maze standing over him with a knife in hand.

Lucifer throws his jacket down on the couch, stomping over. “Really, Mazikeen? You can’t wait five minutes before trying to dissect him.”

“I’m not dissecting him,” Maze drawls, gaze still lazily focused on John. “I’m watching him. Making sure he doesn’t pull any funny business.”

“Well, now, that isn’t creepy at all,” Lucifer scowls, attempting to shuffle her out of the bedroom. “Out you pop. Go play with the urchin or hunt down some criminal scum.”

“And for the record, luv,” John mumbles from the bed, face half-smashed into a pillow, “I’m too knackered to try anything right now.”

“See? The exorcist is sleepy,” Lucifer pushes Maze towards the elevator. “Out you go. I’ll be just fine.”

And once the doors close, Maze staring unnervingly at him the entire time as they do, Lucifer finally turns back around to find John leaning against the archway to the bed, wrapped in one of Lucifer’s robes. The devil eyes the way the man fiddles with a cigarette before tossing it to the side, hand fluttering in the way it only does when one is trying with all their will to break a habit.

“I heard about the lung cancer,” Lucifer hums. “Many demons thought it would be the end of you.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’ve got time to stop that now,” John walks forward, stopping before Lucifer and softening. “Hey, Sammy.”

“Hello, John,” Luci murmurs back, taking the mans face in his hands. “Not that you don’t always look delightful, but it’s nice to see you looking brighter than a log.”

“I’m sure,” John closes his eyes, savouring the feeling on a thumb rubbing up and down the side of his neck. “Last night-“

“You were near delirious,” Lucifer presses a kiss to the corner of John’s mouth. “You did however leave me wanting.”

“I guess I owe you, then,” John slips a hand under the devil’s shirt. “Whatever you desire and all that.”

“And all that,” Lucifer agrees. “Remind me to introduce you to the detective.”

“Why?”

“I have a feeling I’ll want to keep you here for a while.”

“Alright with me, luv,” John murmurs, wrapping his arms around Lucifer’s neck. “Just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing fanfics for these fandoms (and anything involving smut). I'll probably post a pre-qual to explain San Francisco. I hope you enjoyed!


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